


Glasses Smashes

by Trentkusuri



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Hetalia, M/M, RusAme, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trentkusuri/pseuds/Trentkusuri
Summary: Alfred wakes up one morning to find that his eyesight has gone through a dramatic 180 in quality; He can see without his glasses.





	

                Alfred yawned, groaning as sunlight poured into the bedroom from the window onto his sleeping face, rousing him from his peaceful slumber, snuggled against his boyfriend, Ivan. Alfred didn’t even want to open his eyes, let alone tear himself from their sleepy embrace to get ready for the day.  
                With a quiet sigh, Alfred willed himself to let his eyes flutter open, if only to shoot an irritated look to the offending sunlight pouring through the window. But, when the American opened his eyes and looked towards the window, Alfred was surprised by what he saw. Alfred _saw_.  
                Alfred peered across the room, his eyes flowing from their closet to their dresser and the drapes along the top of the window. However, what really shocked the American was when he settled his gaze on his poster for one of his favorite computer games; he could see it, he could _read_ it.  
                After a moment, Alfred feared for the safety of his glasses and his hand quickly rose to his face to grope for his glasses to assess the damage, but was surprised to find that he didn’t have his glasses on.  A glance to his right revealed that Alfred’s glasses were resting on the adjacent bedside table and the blonde’s amazement skyrocketed.  Alfred bolted upright in bed, drawing a tired grunt from the Russian beside him and tore the blankets off himself to get out of bed and examine the poster again.  
                Alfred stood at the bedside and scooped up his glasses as proof to himself that they 100% were _not_ aiding him right now. The blonde looked at the poster with the same level of excitement and joy as when he initially purchased the posters years upon years ago in a convention hall.  
                “Masters of Mysteries…” he whispered softly to himself, reading the text on the poster aloud “Masters of Mysteries.” he whispered once more before darting his gaze to the smaller, harder to read text. “Mysteries just like M.O.M. used to make.” He said softly and then louder “Mysteries just like M.O.M. used to make!”  
                The excitement on the American’s face didn’t falter for even a moment when a groan sounded from the lump on the bed. “Yes, your mom is a nice woman.” Ivan grumbled incoherently while turning his back on the other and trying to bury himself into the bed. Unfortunately for the Russian, Alfred took the presence of any type of reply as an excuse to drag him into being part of his excitement as well.  
                “Ivan, Babe, Ivan!” he said quickly, rounding the bed to Ivan’s side where he prodded, poked, and shook his lover to attention  
                “Alfred nooo.” Ivan whined quietly, swatting weakly at his lover’s hand as it poked at his head. But, the blonde continued. Ivan let out an angry huff and opened his eyes to give an annoyed look to his ecstatic boyfriend.  
                “Ivan I can read the poster!” Alfred chirped cheerfully, too cheerfully for such an early hour in the morning.  
                Ivan looked up at the American for a long moment, the thought of punching his boyfriend running through his mind before letting out a distasteful grunt, “I cannot believe you.” He grumbled while tucking his head underneath his pillow to try and find the dark silence he had mere minutes ago.  
                “I can’t believe it either!” Alfred exclaimed, “I can read the poster!”  
                “Groundbreaking.” Ivan grunted from under the pillow, and Alfred continued,  
                “I can read the tinier text on it too!”  
                “Wonderful.” Came another grunt in response.  
                “Yeah, c’mon Ivan!” Alfred goaded as he began growing tired of the lack of true responses to his amazing recovery.  
                “I’m cured! Mysteries just like M.O.M. used to make!”  
                “Cured by the game? You are still going on about that old computer game?” Ivan grumbled with a heavy Russian accent characteristic of Alfred’s sleepy Russian.  
                “Hey!” Alfred huffed, “That old computer game is important to our relationship!”  
                By this point Ivan knew that Alfred was, without a doubt, fully awake and assuming the ‘upset Alfred’ stance. Knowing better than to ignore his boyfriend any longer, Ivan dragged his head out from underneath the pillow to start forming an apology. However, by the time Ivan opened his mouth, Alfred already seemed to have completely forgotten and busied himself with the book Ivan had on his bedside stand.  
                “See?” Alfred said to obtain his boyfriend’s full attention. Alfred waved the book and his glasses around as if to further solidify their presence and then began, “How to cook authentic Russian food for picky Americans.” He read clearly aloud before adding, “Still rude, by the way.”  
                Ivan looked up at the other, amazed for a brief moment before adopting a skeptical look, “You know book’s title already.” Ivan said, a warning in his voice; if Alfred shook him awake simply to play a prank on him, he would make Alfred regret it.  
                “Nuh-uh, nuh-uh!” Alfred immediately shot back and cracked open the book in order to supply more evidence, all while Ivan watched him with intense, albeit sleeply, scrutiny.  
                “If you’ve ever found yourself dinning with an American, you’ve also most likely been quick to find that they are extremely picky eaters.” Alfred read aloud from the book and let out a scoff as he finished the first sentence.  
                “You are picky.” Ivan said simply  
                Alfred huffed, but shook it off and opened to a random page of the book to provide even more proof. “Making Pirozhki can be easily altered to suit most American’s tastes while still remaining much like it is in traditional Russian cuisine. Simply--” Alfred cut himself short to toss his hands up in complete joy “THANK YOU JESUS I’m cured!” Alfred cried happily with a whoop of delight.  
                Ivan, brought almost to full alertness by Alfred’s shouting, looked up at the blonde in a groggy state of shock. Ivan _knew_ that Alfred had never read the preface of the book let alone the recipes in it. So how was this even close to possible? Alfred’s vision was so bad that it wouldn’t be far from abnormal for Alfred to mistake a coat rack for a conversation partner when without his glasses.  
                “Aw yeah- twenty twenty vision, baby!” Ivan heard Alfred shout happily from the hallway as the American had left to find more things to read with his perfect vision, leaving Ivan to continued trying to comprehend the sudden and impossible recovery of his boyfriend’s eyesight. Ivan sat up, willing the sleepy gears of his mind to turn as he puzzled the sudden recovery further.  
                Alfred’s vision was just as bad yesterday morning as it was the day Ivan met him. Over the many years that their relationship has spanned thus far, Alfred’s vision hasn’t made a single ounce of improvement. But Alfred would almost always have his glasses with him so it would normally not be a problem. Ivan pursed his lips in thought. What had they done last evening?  
                The Russian recalled that last night the two of them had gone to the late showing of a spectacular 3D movie. They had left late and had returned even later, too tired to bother with their normal evening routine and skipped straight to going to bed. The more Ivan thought about it the more he _knew_ that Alfred’s vision had been as poor as it had always been yesterday evening. Ivan remembered that he had, as a matter of fact, poked fun at Alfred before leaving while the blonde was doing the rare task of putting in his contacts before going to the movies.  
            At that moment all thought froze as Ivan remembered and worry conquered the Russians features “Alfred!” Ivan called out into the hallway, getting up from the bed quickly. “Alfred!” Ivan shouted louder down the hallway as he clamored out into the hallway to make his way to where he thought his boyfriend was.  
            “Alfred you’re wearing your contacts!” Ivan bellowed as he stormed into the living room, praying that Alfred hadn’t already done what he thought he’d done. “You fell asleep in your contacts!”  
            Alfred blinked, looking up to his lover, the vestiges of his ecstatic demeanor falling from his face as realization struck the poor man. Alfred stood there a long, silent moment; he let the book he was looking over drop from his hand and slowing brought his eyes to his other hand and the contents within it.  
            “Alfred…” Ivan began slowly, bringing his gaze down to the glasses that Alfred now clutched tightly in his fist. They were broken. From all the excitement and awe that Alfred displayed earlier as his miraculous recovery, it wasn’t too hard to piece together that Alfred had shattered his glasses deliberately. The rush of suddenly not needing them must have egged the blonde on to destroy the reminder of his past poor eyesight; alas, now all that remined was two crushed pieces of spectacles and a grief-stricken looking American.  
            “Ivaaaannnn!” Alfred cried at length as he let himself fall backwards and crumble down into the armchair behind him. “Auuugh fuuuck shit fuck dammit!”  
            Ivan heaved a sigh, frowning sympathetically as his crestfallen lover before turning and picking up the phone. “I’ll call the optometrist.” Ivan sighed while looking through the en masse sticky notes for the correct number. Alfred whimpered from his spot in the armchair, curled up pathetically and Ivan added, “…And I’ll order in some Chinese, hm?”  
            Alfred sighed heavily, nodding slightly as Ivan crossed the room with the phone to pet at his hair. “It’s fine…” Alfred said after a long moment

            “Oh is it?” Ivan asked, looking down at Alfred while holding the phone to his ear to which Alfred nodded.  
            “Yeah.” He said, reaching up to hold and caress Ivan’s hand affectionately “Cuz I don’t need glasses to see how much I love you.” He crooned quietly, giving the Russian a small smile.  
            Ivan blinked, flushing and smiling as he felt his heart melt. “You better not have done all of this just to squeeze in one of your cheesy one liners.” Ivan chided even though he was returning Alfred’s smile with one of his own.  
            “Yooou love ‘em.” Alfred hummed softly while watching the other walk back across the room, anticipating the doctor to answer soon.  
            “Sure, Alfred.” Ivan said and then added before the doctor came on the phone, “You’re a silly American.”  
            “I love you toooo.” Alfred sang softly, slumping into the chair, letting the bits of glasses fall from his hand to the floor as he awaited the arrival of Chinese food and the return of his Russian.


End file.
